


It's Late

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Light Smut, M/M, cockblock!freddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: Roger wanted to brush some of those brown wavy locks out of John’s face, to expose those subtle cheekbones of his, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled for cupping John’s chin in his hand, a thumb rubbing lightly on the front. Only then did he realize how close they were, practically in each other’s laps, probably from the thrashing and rolling they had just done. Roger liked it.“What are you doing?” John whispered, an undeniable husky quality to it. His skin was so warm as it dusted pink.“Nothing,” Roger said, his eyelids a little heavier than usual.“Are you sure?” John breathed, his pupils dilating, breathing faster.“Mhm,” Roger hummed, pulling John’s face closer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I imagine one of the many ways Joger could get together.  
> It's messy, but so are those two so like...  
> Also, There probably will be a part 2 but not anytime soon maybe...  
> On Tumblr, I'm InHopeIBreathe and Disabled-Queen-HC

Roger doesn’t remember the joke John had just told him, but he’s laughing so hard his stomach hurt. They’re both hunched over on Roger’s ratty old couch, clutching their sides or wiping away tears, hollering as they made joke after joke, all of them stupid and nonsensical.

“But- But what if- what if- he didn’t do the- “John couldn’t finish his sentence, throwing himself back on the couch with a cackle, kicking his feet. Roger did the same, the couch creaking from their weight.

They’d been like this since they got back from the pub some hours ago, only buzzed since neither of them could afford to drink much. Even the cheapest ale left a hole in their wallets. That was fine though. The two of them knew how to have fun with limited resources. That was Roger’s specialty after all.

“Okay, but imagine if he had done that in front of the bird he was trying to chat up,” Roger wheezed out, face red, eyes streaming with tears. He had to put out his cigarette in the ash tray before he dropped it from laughing too hard. John bumped Roger on the side roughly, a silent plea to shut up so he could at least catch his breath or hopefully, not piss himself.

The laughter died down, John holding a hand over his speeding heart, Roger rubbing a stitch on his side. They were both panting, looking at everything in the room except for each other, in fear of locking eyes and bursting back into another fit of manic giggles. John’s stomach was too sore to handle that. He stared off into the living room, catching his breath, letting out a few trailing chuckles.

Roger was trying to do the same but was finding it difficult to keep his gaze off the bassist. Hanging out with John was always like this. Nonstop joking, fooling around and if the others were there, a few pranks sprinkled in. The two of them vibed together, sharing a similar sense of humor, amongst a lot of other things. When they weren’t guffawing, they were talking about cars, money, the future, whatever came across their minds. It was just easy to be around John. There was never a quiet or awkward moment between them. Perhaps it was because they were a part of the rhythm line, an aspect of a band that required synchronicity and mutual understanding. Perhaps it was because they were simply meant to be friends.

 _Friends_ , Roger mouthed to himself, gazing at the back of John’s head. He coughed to suppress the weird feeling in his stomach, saying ‘ _friends’_ again.

John felt the hairs on his neck stand up, taking a chance to look back at Roger, catching him in the act of staring.

Friends. That always felt weird to say in relation to John. Roger and Freddie were soulmates. Him and Brian were brothers. Roger and John? Friends? That felt too little. Especially with how attached at the hip they were.

“Why are you gawking at me?” John asked, his cheeks all ruddy.

Roger flushed but smiled, that sleazy little smile he did when chatting women up.

“Am I?” he asked, voice hazy.

He knew he was. His heart fluttered uncomfortably. He absolutely was. How couldn’t he? John was such a nice man to look at. He had a delicate face, with the softest of features. And somehow, it maintained an air of masculinity. A sharp nose, gentle steel grey eyes, pouty plush lips. He was beautiful. A roman statue.

Roger licked his lips, taking in a shaky breath. Where was this all coming from? Why did he feel so warm right now? Why didn’t he care to figure any of this out?

“Uh, you are…” John said in a flat tone, blinking.

“Oh,” was all Roger had to say to that, preferring to listen to this newfound train of thought rather than his brain that was screaming at him to go outside for a smoke.

“’S weird, isn’t it?” he continued, an unfounded confidence lacing through his words.

Roger wanted to brush some of those brown wavy locks out of John’s face, to expose those subtle cheekbones of his, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled for cupping John’s chin in his hand, a thumb rubbing lightly on the front. Only then did he realize how close they were, practically in each other’s laps, probably from the thrashing and rolling they had just done. Roger liked it.

“What are you doing?” John whispered, an undeniable husky quality to it. His skin was so warm as it dusted pink.

“Nothing,” Roger said, his eyelids a little heavier than usual.

“Are you sure?” John breathed, his pupils dilating, breathing faster.

“Mhm,” Roger hummed, pulling John’s face closer.

They gravitated even closer to each other, John’s breath tickling Roger’s skin. Their noses bumped and then brushed up against on another’s, slow and hesitant. Their stomachs were flipping, spines tingling, their minds surprisingly silent. And then their lips met, eyes falling shut.

It was so soft and sweet. Both of their ears were ringing. John could feel Roger tucking his hair back and Roger could feel John’s hands resting on his shoulder. The kiss was chaste, somehow mind blowing but most of all…

It was brief.

John pulled away, his face harboring a look of shock. It seemed the gears in his head finally started to turn.

He skootched himself to the far side of the couch, eyes wide. “Uh, I think we’re still drunk,” he stuttered out, wringing his hands nervously, heels digging into the carpet. He refused to even look in the other’s direction.

Roger shook his head, cocking it as he spoke, “We had one beer, John.” John may not have liked what had just happened, but it was a sober decision. Although Roger had a feeling it wasn’t a mistake. It certainly wasn’t on his part.

John glanced at Roger, his face growing redder by the second. “Oh…it’s rather late then…don’t you think,” he said, suddenly unable to look away. He bit his lip. Hard.

There was a smirk tugging at the corner of Roger’s mouth. “It’s not if you don’t want it to be,” he purred, which made John visibly shiver.

John inhaled deeply, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Five minutes ago, they were making fun of some poor bloke and now, the both of them seemed very hungry for something they had no idea they had an appetite for.

His body was thrumming, every nerve in his body starving for Roger’s touch. He didn’t understand. And for once, he was fine with that.

John stood up, sporting a shy smile as he oh so innocently crawled into Roger’s lap. Roger threw his head back, groaning, as if the sight alone would kill him.

“It’s not late then,” he said.

 _Fantastic_ , Roger breathed.

Without a second to waste, he wrapped his arms around John’s middle, pulling him close as their lips met for a second time. This time it was rough, a sense of urgency behind the action. Their lips crashed into one another’s fingers pressing into the other’s skin, bodies impossibly firm against each other’s. Their breath grew ragged, their blood rushing to everywhere except their brains. If they could form a rational thought, it’d be about how good this felt. And it only felt this good was because it was with the other.

John shivered, mewling quietly when Roger bit his bottom lip. He acquiesced to the silent request to part his lips, his hands gripping Roger’s shoulders when his tongue slid into his mouth. Roger traced circles into John’s back as he rubbed their tongues together, sparks going off in their cores. They both shuddered in near regular intervals, especially when John deepened the kiss.

John’s fingers got lost in Roger’s hair, tugging at it when Roger did something he liked. And Roger couldn’t keep his hands off of John’s pert ass, giving it a good squeeze every now and then, which seemed to make John moan every time.

Roger loathed to pull himself away from John, every fiber of his body vibrating, but he needed some air. John whined, touching their foreheads together as he panted. Roger tasted better than any beer he could’ve bought at the pub.

The drummer held onto John’s upper arms, stroking them lightly as he collected himself. As fun as this was, he did have to explain himself. And so did John. He seemed too eager to get back to kissing, trying to reconnect their lips.

“Hold on, Deacy! You’ve quite literally stolen my breath,” Roger said with a chuckle. He was beyond winded and painfully hard, a combination that usually led to reckless decisions. He couldn’t do that with John.

John giggled, a gorgeous pink tint on his face. Goddamn he was cute. He was allowed to think that since they’d just snogged. Right…?

Roger cleared his throat, having to bring up something hard. A conversation, not his-

“So, uh…this is fun ‘n all but um...what is this?” He began. Not very solidly, but it was a start. Not that he got to finish it.

John’s eyebrows knitted, a finger jabbing into Roger’s chest. “Oh, **_now_** you want to talk? Finish what you started. We can talk in the morning,” he said, having none of this in the middle of a make out session.

“The morning?” Roger said, biting back a laugh.

John grunted, rolling his eyes. “Fine!” John sat up straight, pretending to be serious. “Let’s talk. This,” he pointed a finger to the two of them. “Is,” his voice dropped, becoming something sultry, “Whatever you want it to be.” He finalized his little talk with some kisses down Roger’s jawline and neck.

Roger did not expect the supposedly innocent John to be this eager. “ _You fucking minx_ ,” he whispered, grabbing a hold of John’s chin to bring them face to face. “But I want this to be because **I like you** ,” he said, his baby blues burrowing into John’s stormy grey eyes. That was the word he had been looking for all this time. John wasn’t a friend. He was more than that. Much much more than that.

Roger leaned in for another kiss and John kissed back, easily, with no hesitation. It was because he felt the same way. A part of him wanted this so badly, but he never acknowledged that. With Roger’s arms once again encircling him, pressing them tightly into each other, it felt right. Like this is what they should’ve been doing all along instead of making jokes.

The blond nibbled at his ear before nipping at his throat, latching onto the skin to leave behind some delicious purple splotches. John sighed shakily, his hips rocking ever so slowly, back and forth in Roger’s lap, _feeling_ the effect it had on him.

Roger was just about to throw John down against the couch to get a better angle when the front door burst open.

“ **HOLY SHIT** , guys, you would not _BELIEVE_ the night I just had!” A knackered Freddie said as he toddled into the house, holding a wine glass.

John was on the floor, stomach down, pretending absolutely nothing was happening.

Roger was laying on the couch, a pillow just by accident laying across his crotch to hide his straining pants.

“Mhm, wow, Fred, sounds wild,” John panted out, fixing his hair.

“Yeah! I stole this wine glass. I found a penny on the floor. Saw a handsome bloke. Brian fell down a flight of stairs but he’s okay,” Freddie said, wobbling as he closed the door.

“Wow,” Roger said through grit teeth. And this was why having a roommate sucked.

“Crazy night. Wish you guys were there. Must’ve been boring here. Anyways I’m going to bed. Just need a glass of water in my new fancy wine glass,” Freddie mumbled as he padded to the kitchen.

Roger and John both let out noises of discontent as they got up, figuring the night was a bust. There was no way to finish this with Freddie rummaging around. At least they got a good snog out of it.

They walked to the door, more awkwardly than they’d like and stood by it, not knowing what to say.

“So…”

“Uh…”

John leaned forward on his heels, hooking his fingers through the loops of Roger’s jeans, pulling him closer. With the meekness of a lamb, John muttered something about Roger coming over to his flat tomorrow. He had no roommates.

Roger snickered, snaking his arms around John’s middle. “You can’t possibly be acting shy now!”

“Shut up,” John said, wrinkling his nose. “Just come over. I’m not done with you.”

“Pfft. Yessir,” Roger said, giving John one final kiss before he was off into the night, a gigantic smile on his face that he thought Roger couldn’t see.

Roger closed the door before leaning onto it, his head swimming. He had **not** planned for tonight to go like this _at all_. But he was not one to complain. Especially when he was macking on someone so goddamn cute. And surprisingly forward.

He closed his eyes, a smile on his own face. Wow. What a-

“Ew, Roger, put your boner away. Why do you even have one?” Freddie slurred, barely holding onto his wine glass, now filled with water.

Roger jumped, covering himself. “Ah-Oh, um, I was just, ahah, uh, thinking…about things…”

“In front of John? Double ew.”

Roger laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Whatever. Go to bed, it’s late,” Freddie said, waddling to his room.

“Y-Yeah. I know. It’s not too late, though…” Roger said with a little smile that Freddie wouldn’t understand.


	2. When I'm Bleeding Deep Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “John, where are you?” Roger called out, moving on to more important matters, like where the hell John was.  
> No answer. Roger was getting a little tired of this hide and seek game. Luckily, John’s flat wasn’t all the big. He checked all over the kitchen and then the living room and found nothing but a folded-up comic book. John must be in his room then.  
> Roger blushed, gulping as he slowly walked to John’s bedroom, having an inkling of an idea of what would be on the other side. He wouldn’t hesitate opening the door this time.   
> He turned the knob and pushed the door open, his heart racing in anticipation of what he’d see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Roger keeps calling himself gay when he's Bi, but I think for the time period, it's what they did.   
> the beach boys said hi  
> Uhhh, dunno when the next chap will be up. I'm winging this :-)  
> Anyhooooo  
> My blogs on tumblr are InHopeIBreathe and Disabled-Queen-HC  
> yeah

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

Roger exhaled as he shook his body loose of nerves, hopping foot to foot.

_You’ve got this._

_It’s just John._

_Just John._

_A little different, cuz you like him and he likes you._

_But it’s._

_Just._

_John._

Roger straightened up, puffing his chest out a bit. Hopefully _this_ would be the pep talk that worked. He’d been standing outside John’s flat, too scared to actually knock on the door for the past 5 minutes.

Could anyone blame him?

In the span of one night, his best friend turned into his…boyfriend-maybe-kinda-sorta-crush-like-person. There was a lot they needed to talk about and the thought of it made him break out in a sweat.

What made him want to collapse into a heap on the floor was the thought of continuing the, er, **events** from last night. Roger was never one to shy away from sex, his 21-year-old body incapable of turning down a good shagging. But he’s never shagged his boyfriend-maybe-kinda-sorta-crush-like-person before. He didn’t even know if that was in today’s itinerary.

He brought condoms though.

Just in case.

Roger cleared his throat, dead set on knocking the door.. _now_ … _now_ …. ** _right now_** ……

His knuckles finally connected with the wooden door. _No turning back now_ , he thought.

Roger heard shuffling on the other side of the door, a weight pressing against it as John presumably checked the peephole. He heard the clank as the tumbler was pulled out and then the flick of the lock. The door opened. Roger beamed.

And then his smile fell. John wasn’t standing in the door frame to greet him. He waited a moment to see if John would peak his head through, but nothing happened, so he let himself in.

Roger closed the door behind him, taking a look at John’s flat. It was so clean the air was sparkled. Which was strange because Roger had been over quite a few times and he would never consider John a tidy person. He must’ve been up all morning cleaning. _Aww_ , _just for me?_

“John, where are you?” Roger called out, moving on to more important matters, like where the hell John was.

No answer. Roger was getting a little tired of this hide and seek game. Luckily, John’s flat wasn’t all the big. He checked all over the kitchen and then the living room and found nothing but a folded-up comic book. John must be in his room then.

Roger blushed, gulping as he slowly walked to John’s bedroom, having an inkling of an idea of what would be on the other side. He wouldn’t hesitate opening the door this time.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open, his heart racing in anticipation of what he’d see.

“John? Oh! God, John!” Roger yelped, his thoughts switching from lust to concern in a record-breaking amount of time. He rushed over to John’s bed, where John was currently curled up in the middle of, rocking and sniffling.

“Deacy, what’s wrong?” he asked as he knelt besides the bed, his hands going to touch John’s back.

John leaned away from Roger’s touch, mumbling, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

Roger’s hand returned to his side, unbothered by John’s refusal to be comforted. He was never the touchy feely type anyways.

He shook his head, eyebrows knitting together. “Do what, John?”

He was wholly confused, assuming John was having a break down over his masters or something. Although Roger never finished his degree, he knew it could take a toll on someone. He’d been to the uni libraries. He saw all the zombie-students walking around.

“This. This. I can’t do this,” John mumbled again, curling in tighter on himself. He let out a shaky whine, teeth gritting.

Still in the dark, Roger prodded for a little more information. He could only do so much without knowing what was bothering John. “Maybe I could help you if you told me what was wrong…” he said, trying to get close to John’s face, which was buried under his hair and pressed into his knees.

John sobbed at Roger’s words, immediately unfurling, sitting up and pointing to him. “You can’t help me! It’s you! I can’t do this! With you! I can’t!!” he yelled, his face a deep red. He’d been like this for hours.

Roger blinked, taking a moment for his head to connect the dots. Him? John couldn’t do h- oh. _Oh_.

“John, c-” Roger started but was cut off.

“No! You don’t get it. I was straight and fine until yesterday. And now I’m, I’m, I don’t know what I am! All I know is I don’t want to be this. A fairy. A pansy. I don’t know anything about that stuff. I’m not like Freddie! And I’m scared. One minute, I could have kids and get married and have a family and now what do I have? I don’t want to be killed for holding your hand. I don’t want to be beat up! And I’ve never even had sex with a man! Why did I think I could do it last night?? I can’t do this, Roger! I can’t!” John blubbered out, the tears burning down his face, his hands running gruffly though this hair.

Roger felt his stomach drop. Not because he was hurt by John’s words but because he genuinely hadn’t expected this. John was known to be a worrier. He blew things out of proportion. He had enough anxiety to a fuel a small village. He should have known John would come home and promptly freak out. Roger was too high off adrenaline to even think to check in with John. And now it was his job to bring him back down.

Roger sighed as he crawled onto the bed, his feet hanging off the side. John eyed him suspiciously, wiping at his cheeks as he scooted away.

“Oh, John, don’t act like that,” Roger said, batting his hand to slap John’s shoulder. Despite what happened last night, he was still the same old Roger. Not depraved just because he liked men. John knew that, but he was so frazzled. Everything was spinning for him.

“It’s like…so…ugh. Deacy. When I figured out I liked men too, I nearly lost my mind. I had all the same thoughts you’re having. The same fears and questions. And I wish I had a magic answer to make all your distress go away, but I don’t. People get killed for being gay, yes. They get beaten up. We can’t marry. Can’t have kids. Society looks down on us and…yet, we still exist,” Roger looked over to John, who was looking down at his fingers, all wet from his tears.

“We exist, always existed and will continue to exist. Why? Because we always find each other. We comfort, protect and _love_ each other. And my god, do we love hard. I’m convinced our love is something different than the love between a man and a woman. Our love is sacred. That’s just me though. But uh, yeah. The world sucks. But when you have somebody…it doesn’t have to,” Roger said, shrugging a little.

John rubbed his face, the redness going down. Only then did Roger notice how big John’s eye bags were. Poor guy was having a gay panic all by himself, all night long.

John was quiet for a while, fiddling with his fingers. There was so much he had to say, so many questions he wanted to ask, but the realization of who he truly was paralyzed him. Roger let him stay quiet to mull through his words. He didn’t want to overload John with gay positivity and hope all in one sitting.

John cleared his throat after some time, quietly asking, “You still like birds, Rog?”

Roger nodded. He fancied both sexes.

John inhaled deeply. “I don’t think I like birds. I think…I did ‘cus I was supposed to. I’ve kissed a lot of women and it never felt like it did when I kissed, uh, you,” he whispered, his heartbeat stuttering. He remembered the fireworks in his gut. The way his body _needed_ more of Roger. How right it felt to be touched and handled and caressed by him. Even his most intense make out sessions with women never left him anything more than semi-hard.

Roger patted John’s knee. “It’s okay. It happens a lot.” He could ask Freddie. He wasted years desperately trying to feel anything for women.

“I feel bad. Like I failed. If I hadn’t…if we never…maybe I could’ve done my mum proud. Married a nice girl. Had kids. Be normal,” John said, looking at Roger’s hand that was on his knee.

“But you wouldn’t have been happy. You’d be lying to yourself,” Roger said as tenderly as he could.

“I know. I know. I’m just scared. I don’t…want to be afraid of my love. What other people think of it. What other people might do if they see it…”

“You don’t have to be. Sure, you can’t go to the public with it, but have you seen Freddie with his blokes? How normal it is for him? How happy and free he acts with them? It’s not a cage, John. It’s just not a public performance,” Roger said, squeezing John’s knee before letting go.

He knew it’d take John a long time to come to terms with this. John wasn’t the kind of guy who got comfortable with things over night. And while Roger could talk for hours about this, with John finally calm, it was a good opportunity to get him to sleep. He’d be in better shape after a nap.

He stood up, inhaling deeply. “We can talk more later. How about I make you something to eat and you take a nap, okay? You look dreadful,” he said, chuckling a little.

John seemed to find humor in that, nodding, a slight smile on his face.

Roger smiled back, leaving John to get settled into bed while he went to the kitchen. Passing through the living room, he turned on the radio, dialing it into his favorite station. He then went to rummage in the fridge, looking for anything edible he could make.

He found some bread and cheese. That he could manage. He put a kettle on the stove to boil, humming along to the music softly playing throughout the house.

_Wouldn't it be nice if we were older,_

_Then we wouldn't have to wait so long._

_And wouldn't it be nice to live together,_

_In the kind of world where we belong._

He buttered a pan, setting it on the stove to heat up. He plopped two slices of bread in it, whistling.

_Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up,_

_In the morning when the day is new._

_And after having spent the day together,_

_Hold each other close the whole night through._

When the kettle started to shriek, he poured out two cups, putting in black tea bags in each. A splash of milk and one sugar each. He placed the cheese slices on top of the toasting bread, mouthing the lyrics to himself.

_Happy times together we've been spending._

_I wish that every kiss was neverending._

_Wouldn't it be nice._

He placed the toast on a plate, carrying it over to John, the two teas in his other hand. He carefully walked into John’s bedroom, just in case he had fallen asleep. He hadn’t but was under the covers, looking quite snuggly.

“Here,” Roger said, handing him the plate and tea mug. “Hope it’s up to your standards.” John smiled, thanking him as he took the food, readily digging in.

_Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come true._

_Baby then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do._

_We could be married._

_And then we'd be happy._

Roger sipped his tea, laughing occasionally at John who was scarfing the food down. It seems he not only didn’t sleep last night; he didn’t eat either. _Typical John_.

John drained his tea cup, sighing contentedly as he placed it on his bed side table. He looked to Roger, some worry still in his eyes.

“Take a nap, alright? I’ll be in the living room. And we’ll keep talking later. Don’t worry though, okay? About uh, this. Us. I don’t expect sex from you or anything. Just uh…just sleep well,” he said nonchalantly. He didn’t want to make this a big deal. He may be ready but John wasn’t and he respected that. And if John wasn’t ever ready, then he’d respect that too.

“Oh..yeah. Thank you…” John said, looking significantly more at ease. He beckoned for Roger to come closer though, wanting to say something to him. Roger approached him, leaning down to hear John.

John cupped Roger’s face in his hands, hesitating when his lips touched Roger’s cheeks. He repositioned them to press lightly onto Roger’s lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered again before pulling away, and rolling over in bed to go to sleep.

“Y-Yeah…no problem,” Roger stuttered, walking out of the room, touching his lips with a grin.

_Good night my baby_

_Sleep tight my baby_

_Good night my baby_

_Sleep tight my baby_

_Good night my baby_

_Sleep tight my baby ..._


End file.
